


priorities

by pointsnorth



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: M/M, actually i guess this isn't ageswap AU really? idk., ageswap au, also: Heavensward spoilers, even though i'm not personally but wev, please do not read this if you are not up to date within the msq, porn with the barest excuse of plot i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 09:19:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5621896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pointsnorth/pseuds/pointsnorth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a small, filthy matter of knowing who loves you most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	priorities

“Fuck me, _please–_ ”

He’s vibrant, flush with want and eyes sparkling with greed. “Please, you know I’ll be fine, I’ll be quite alright I just– _Francel.”_

Legs splayed invitingly, Haurchefant reaches out to touch something, anything, the nearest limb or ilm of flesh; he needs to know this is real, this isn’t some fever dream making his insides writhe in delight. No one else has entered his fantasies. No one else has loved him, has accepted him, and he wants everything of himself to be given in turn.

He needs Francel to be his first and only, like air. But Francel, beautiful Francel with his soft hair and the sweet smell of sugar and flowers in his clothes, his nightsky eyes and his perfect lips, doesn’t move. He doesn’t need to, after a few moments; there is no claiming, only giving here, and all he has to do is better accommodate the sudden press of warm, lean muscle clumsily rubbing against him. 

He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t, not really, not at all; their relationship has always been something fiercely watched for signs of this at the best of times, and Haurchefant is barely a man now, but Haurchefant also loves him, loves hungrily and needily and gods, he can’t help but crumble under the tidal wave that is his best friend’s want.

He’s always had a weak spot for him, always indulged when he shouldn’t. Why would now be any different, just because they’re losing clothing at an alarming rate? No one will come for a while, they have enough time for something, for some kind of satisfaction at least and how long how _long_ have they both needed things to come to a head like this?

“Do you know how many times I’ve…I’ve touched–”

“Every single time, please say it’s every single time. I’ve wanted no other; you _know_ that.”

Even now, it’s a mere matter of trying to keep Haurchefant from humping uselessly against him until they both topple backwards onto the bed; such darling enthusiasm, and every time he manages to line up his hips just right it’s enough to make Francel gasp perhaps a little louder than he ought. Every last little daydream has been of this, of that fury fuelling them into something tender and wild, bites and kisses and saliva, humid breath and tingling ears and gods, gods Haurchefant’s already starting to writhe and keen like a whore, each plea for mercy going straight to his cock and making it ever so hard to maintain any balance.

He comes first. Of course he comes first, he’s younger (so he thinks anyway, totally logical), but the fact of the matter is that Francel is thus left unsated and so, so very close.

With a budding stain on his lovely bliaud, the one his mother probably bought him. Haurchefant vows silently to save up his allowance to buy another in the same fetching shade of green, even as he pulls away and attempts to fit as much of his dearest, oldest friend’s cock down his throat. It hurts a little, and he initially gags enough to bring up thick gobs of saliva, but if the quivering, exultant reaction is anything to go by, he really can’t be too unhappy with his efforts. There’s something just…Delightfully intoxicating about the knowledge that he’s managed to beat everyone else to having Francel in any way, even something small like this; no one else can have him, no one else can even look at him with lewd thoughts in their minds for they are each others’ and not even Halone could tear them apart. 

Watching strings of saliva and semen trail from Haurchefant’s stretched, swollen lips to the tip of his cock is really another matter altogether, something that makes Francel twinge with longing despite still feeling the rush of his first high. Beautiful really, knowing that someone (that the one person he so happens to love) would push their own limits so much without regard for themselves, just to please him.

 

But it doesn’t matter, does it? Sunlight hits his face, and as Francel tries to shield his eyes from the brightness, the fact that Haurchefant is not only dead, but the Haurchefant who loved him so wildly has been dead for years before, only leaves cold comfort to any such dream.


End file.
